And Other Duties As Assigned
by Mijan
Summary: There's a clause in the contract for a Starfleet Officer: "... and other duties as assigned." Jim Kirk keeps running headlong into just what those "other duties" might be. This is a series of short stories exploring the many unexpected things a Starfleet captain might need to endure... especially if his name is James T. Kirk. Poor Jim.
1. Special Delivery

**Special Delivery**

"Dammit, Bones, I'm a captain, not a doctor!"

The chuckle on the other end of the subspace channel was telling. And infuriating. "_Well, Captain, today you can be both._"

"This shouldn't be happening! We think the gravity fluctuations we hit might have triggered it, but..." Jim shook his head to himself. He was in the middle of nowhere, in a shuttlecraft. Three hours out from rendezvous with the Enterprise. Transporting the Caitian Ambassador. Who was now in labor.

"I can't do this! If she was human, I might have a clue, but this is... I don't even..."

"_Oh, it's pretty simple, Jim. You let her hold your hand -_"

"She's got claws, Bones!"

"_- through the contractions, catch the kittens, and clean them up._"

"How am I supposed to – wait, did you say kittens? As in... more than one?"

The Caitian Ambassador glared up at him. "I am carrying four kits, Kirk, which is normal for my race. And without my mate here, I shall need you to act in his place."

Jim felt his eyes widen. "I... what do I need to do?"

"The kits must be cleansed the proper way to ensure health and vitality. The mate must assist." She looked at him skeptically. "I do not think your species' tongue is properly developed for the task, but I have been told that humans are versatile."

It took every scrap of Starfleet's considerable diplomatic training for Jim to keep his expression calm. "Just one second," he said to the Ambassador before turning and hissing in an undertone into the comm panel. "I'm supposed to lick the kits clean?"

"_Come on now, you've never had a problem lick -_"

"And _that_ will be quite enough, Doctor McCoy."

"_You wouldn't have respected me if I hadn't said it._"

That was true. But still. "You've got to help me with this, Bones." It was a pitiful whine.

"_You're on yer own, Jim. Spock's got us at maximum warp, but unless something goes wrong, you'll be fine. Comm if there's a problem._"

"Yeah. Kirk out," Jim said, slapping the comm panel. "Dammit, Bones."


	2. Household Pets

**Household Pets**

Jim sat very, very still.

He was at the conference table of the High Family of Juganta III, representing the Federation for some very delicate negotiations. Starfleet wanted to establish a space station in the Jugantans' star system, and an outpost on their planet. The Jugantans were friendly, and quite cordial to visitors, but preferred not to have any permanent outsiders living in their territory. Thus, James T. Kirk had been assigned to sweet-talk the planet into playing host to some long-term visitors.

It seemed like an easy assignment - booze and schmooze, wine and dine, and make nice with the locals. And mostly it was... until he discovered that the Jugantans liked to bring their pets everywhere with them. And by "pets," he meant these six-foot-long, dark red, snake-like creatures called rabugens. Reptilian biology, but with what must have been thirty pairs of tiny legs. They looked like giant, scaled centipedes.

And the First Daughter of the High Family had brought her darling pet rabujen to the meeting.

And the creature had taken a distinct shine to Jim.

"So," as Jim was saying, "if Starfleet establishes the space station as proposed, we'll be able to offer your planet significant defenses, which will allow your people to allocate defense resources elsewhere." His breath hitched as the creature once again twined around his left leg, making an odd sound that Jim hoped was its equivalent of purring. "Your people would have the reassurance of Federation defenses."

"We've never been attacked before," the Matriarch of the Family said.

"There's a first time for everything, ma'am," Jim said, trying desperately to sound smooth. The creature was around his right leg now. "The galaxy has changed in the past year and half. The Romulans are more active, and the Klingons are trying to expand their territory."

"This is true," the Patriarch said, looking at his wife. "And we do not like conflict. A Federation presence would deter possible intruders, leaving us secure, and our citizens reassured."

Jim flashed a winning smile, despite the cold sweat that was starting to break out on his neck. "It would definitely deter intruders. And remember, this is still your territory. If, at any point, your people decide that the Federation presence is intrusive, or simply unwanted, all you need to do is ask us to remove the station and abandon the outpost, and we'll leave." He forced himself to take a slow, deep breath. The air seemed a bit too thick. "I guarantee the weight of the entire Federation's reputation as a peaceful organization behind that promise."

"Captain?" Spock's tone was curious and (if Jim had learned to read the Vulcan's faint vocal nuances) just a touch concerned. "Are you feeling ill?"

Shit. Jim affected his best you're imagining things look. "Mr. Spock, what would make you ask such a thing?"

Spock's lips curved downwards, just the slightest bit. "Your rate of respiration has increased by eighty-seven-point-four percent in the past two minutes. Additionally, you are perspiring despite an ambient air temperature Terrans usually find comfortably cool."

The pet rabujen was crawling up his leg. Jim couldn't quite suppress the goosebumps that worked up his spine, but he rolled his eyes at Spock. "I'm merely... enthusiastic about our future partnership with the fine people of Juganta III." Then he flashed a look that he hoped Spock would interpret as, "_Drop it_."

Spock raised one eyebrow that Jim interpreted to mean, "_Bullshit, Captain_."

But the Matriarch had already moved on to a list of concerns that had been petitioned by her citizens, and Jim was trying his damnedest to focus on a question regarding the Federation's intentions to use local resources to build the planetary outpost. There was something about the locals wanting to ensure that their own vital resources wouldn't be usurped by the Federation, and Jim knew that was damned important, but the rabujen had found the hem of his shirt. And the first delicate little leg was reaching inside his clothes.

_Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out..._

He could handle this. He was still replying calmly to the Matriarch, and the Patriarch was nodding happily at his answers, and it would be okay. He didn't need to say anything about the rabujen. The First Daughter had already made it clear that her pet's behavior was not to be restricted or constrained. Some sort of Jugantan equivalent of "My little Precious can go wherever he wants, isn't that right, Precious?" So James T. Kirk, the brave Starfleet captain who had battled Romulans and Klingons and had prevented interplanetary wars and faced down psychopathic bad guys and space pirates and... and... all that shit... could definitely handle a little girl's pet climbing on him. Right?

Right?

"Jim? Hey, uh, Jim?" Bones' voice broke through his muddled thoughts. "I think the Vulcan is right. You're starting to hyperventilate." He was already reaching towards his ever-present tricorder.

Jim was about to wave him down when the rabujen decided to go for gold and began crawling up his chest in earnest. He couldn't hold back. With a gasp, he jumped out of his seat, squirming in a way that had to be illegal in several star systems. The creature managed to climb up through the collar of his shirt, and wrapped itself around his neck.

For a frantic moment, he was certain the creature was going to strangle him to death. What a way to go - killed by a kid's pet. But instead, the rabujen draped itself gently around his shoulders and began... purring?

Jim couldn't keep the shocked expression off his face as the critter began caressing his neck lightly with a couple of its legs. It was definitely purring. Jim had no idea what to say.

And Bones... was laughing. "Well I'll be a monkey's uncle, Jim... I think he likes you."

Spock tilted his head. "I believe Doctor McCoy's assessment is accurate."

Bones scowled at Spock. "We're agreeing twice in one day? There's got to be something wrong with this."

In the meantime, the entire First Family had stood collectively, and the Patriarch was smiling broadly. "He does indeed like you, Captain Kirk. And this is a remarkably good sign. A pet rabujen is an excellent judge of character. They will not make contact with those who are dishonest or unkind."

Jim was desperately trying not to look completely unnerved by the bizarre creature, who was now nuzzling under his chin. "So... uh... that's a good thing, then?" He cringed at how stupid he sounded.

"It is!" the First Daughter chimed in happily. She walked over to him and began petting the creature without making any motion to remove it from Jim. "Pugra is very picky about strangers. He wouldn't like you if you wanted something bad for our people." She turned towards the Matriarch. "Mama, Pugra knows this Terran means well for us and our people. We should listen to Captain Kirk and allow them to build their outpost."

The Patriarch nodded to his wife. "It would be good for our people, my dear. Scientific opportunity. Trade. Cultural exchange without cultural infiltration. And... Pugra likes Captain Kirk. Our rabujen knows."

The Matriarch stood still for a moment, then nodded serenely. "I agree. Come, let us take a recess, refresh ourselves with good food and drink, and return to draw up the final terms of the treaty." She finally allowed a smile. "And the good Captain can spend some time enjoying the company of our dear Pugra."

Without another word, she turned and walked out the door with her husband and daughter following closely. At the doorway to the chambers, the First Daughter turned back over her shoulder, giggled, and then left the room.

Leaving Jim standing there with Pugra, still purring around his neck. Three or four legs seemed to be stroking the hair at the back of his head now. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, but at the same time, this bizarre creature had helped him seal the deal with the Jugantans. He couldn't very well remove it now.

"Well, Jim, I think you've made yourself a new friend." Bones was smirking.

"I agree, Captain. The creature seems inordinately fond of you."

"That's three agreements," Bones said edgily. "There's gotta be a screw loose somewhere if we keep agreeing so easily."

"That would be highly illogical, as we are biological entities and do not have screws, Doctor."

"Speak for yourself, ya walkin' computer," Bones snapped lightly, then grinned. "That's better."

"You're not helping, guys," Jim said, not happy with the way the pitch of his voice was still a bit too high.

"Who said we were trying to?" Bones drawled.

Jim glared at him.

"Captain, I believe the xenozoology lab would be most interested in studying a specimen of this species. Perhaps we could -"

"NO!" Jim blurted out, then composed himself. "I mean... I suppose... I..." He sighed and sat down heavily. "Can somebody get me a drink?"

"Sure thing, Jim," Bones said. "Come on, Spock. Let's leave the Captain to spend some quality time with his new friend."

Pugra nuzzled his chin.

Jim closed his eyes and groaned.


End file.
